


funny how coincidences work

by anomalousity



Series: you took the words right out of my mouth [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1728581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalousity/pseuds/anomalousity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last guy Bucky expected to see at a protest was a skinny shrimp who looked to be having an asthma attack.</p><p>He walks over to the guy, concern propelling him on despite not knowing him from Adam, and flings his arms over his shoulders. “You all right, pal?”</p><p>The guy glances up at him, hacks a painful cough, and forces a small smile. “Peachy,” he answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	funny how coincidences work

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably say that this series is actually a series of introductions, inspired by [this](http://rollingirl.co.vu/post/81946249429/i-will-fall-in-love-with-you-in-all-of-the) post on tumblr. There will be a number of introductions before it jumps into a plot immediately following The Winter Soldier, but it'll be a bit of a different take. 
> 
> Basically, this story will be the beginning of a bunch of alternate universes, starting with canonically plausible ones and spanning out from there. Once I pick a universe, probably one of the later AUs that involves Bucky wearing sweaters and messy buns, I'll advance the plot beyond "Hey, nice to meet you."

The last guy Bucky expected to see at a protest was a skinny shrimp who looked to be having an asthma attack.

He walks over to the guy, concern propelling him on despite not knowing him from Adam, and flings his arms over his shoulders. “You all right, pal?”

The guy glances up at him, hacks a painful cough, and forces a small smile. “Peachy,” he answers. His voice rattles with the wheezing in his lungs when he speaks.

So Bucky acts on impulse and threads his fingers through the strangers’.

“I’m Bucky,” he says, pulling them away from the crowd and towards a place where he can get him some help. Fight for what he wants, but Bucky’s not letting the guy die on his watch, especially not after seeing him hack his lungs out without anyone bothering to ask him if he’s okay.

“I don’t know you,” the guy says.

“You know, that’s usually your cue to introduce yourself,” Bucky bites back with a sweet smile.

The guy harrumphs but follows Bucky without further protest. He finds a small space between two buildings and pulls the guy into it before he gets a name. “Steve.”

“Huh?” Bucky bends to a crouch and puts his ear to the guy’s bony chest. It rattles when he sighs.

“My name,” he says. “It’s Steve.”

Bucky smiles and pulls away, pausing only to ruffle the guy’s hair and grin at the exasperated expression it earns him. “Well, Steve, we need to get you to a doctor.”

“What are you, my mother?” But again, he follows Bucky without question.

They’re on the streets for maybe ten minutes before Bucky finds a pharmacy and pulls Steve into it. It’s only under the harsh fluorescents that he can see the myriad of bruises coloring Steve’s pale skin. A swollen eye, a pair of matching bruises under each eye and a trail of dried blood from his nose suggesting he was punched hard enough to break. His arms are covered in tiny scratches and bruises.

“What the fuck were you doing to get all this?” Bucky asks, not scolding, but with enough concern that Steve ducks his head and blushes.

He’s talking to his feet when he answers, “Nothin’.”

“Bullshit.”

“Really,” Steve insists, but Bucky hears the lie in it.

So he rolls his eyes and pushes his hands over Steve’s scrawny as hell shoulders. How the hell the guy has managed to not blow over in the wind is the question Bucky should be asking, but he forces all of his resolve into making his words as unthreatening as possible.

“Steve,” he says. “Who was it?”

“No one.”

“I’ll back you up,” he says, offering an alternative. Steve looks up at it, his eyebrows coming together with a slight blush.

“What?” he asks.

“You heard me.”

Steve shifts on his feet, knits his fingers together, brushes his hair from his forehead before chewing is lip into a red, swollen mess. When it looks like all he’s doing is worrying himself into another panic attack, Bucky slides his thumb under Steve’s chin and forces him to meet his eyes.

“Steve, I’m with you, pal,” he says, not caring that people are staring at them.

Steve looks like he finally gets what Bucky’s trying to get out of him and his shoulders slump. “A couple guys at the docks caught me with Johnny,” he says, ducking his head.

“So they beat you up? That doesn’t seem like a good reason,” Bucky replies, surprised when Steve shoots him a withering look.

His shoulders are tense when he growls, “Well not everyone’s so open minded as you, Bucky.”

It takes a minute to sink in, and then Bucky feels like the biggest dumbass who ever lived. He should’ve gathered as much from the protest itself; he was there, why should he believe Steve to be different from himself?

“You’re queer?” he asks, not trusting his voice above a whisper.

Steve nods, his brows set in defiance even as he blushes something awful.

“Hey,” Bucky says. When Steve doesn’t respond, he clears his throat and repeats himself. “Hey, Steve, c’mon look at me.”

It gets him a glance, and he’s grateful for that much, so he continues. “Steve, I am too.”

Steve looks up from under his eyelashes, his blush subsiding into confusion and then cautious comfort. “Really?” he asks, sounding about three seconds from bolting.

Bucky smiles and bobs his head. “Yup.”

It probably should be a hell of a lot more awkward, considering that Steve’s the first person he’s told that to and that he did it in a crowded pharmacy a block from his ma’s apartment, but he’s oddly at ease. Steve seems to be calming down too, from the way he shifts on his feet and brushes his fingers through his hair.

It’s a few minutes until either of them speak, and when the silence is broken, Steve’s smirking.

“So,” he says. “Were you serious about backing me up?” he asks.

Bucky grins and throws his arm over Steve’s narrow shoulders. “’Til the end of the line, punk.”


End file.
